Chapter 5 - THE MOTHER-IN-LAW'S DESPERATION
If there was one person in the world who had treated me worse than Ethan over the last four years, it was his mother, Beatrice Caldwell.
Beatrice was a woman obsessed with old-money status despite having none of her own. From the day Ethan brought me home to meet his family, Beatrice had made it her personal mission to ensure I felt worthless. She constantly mocked my humble clothes, criticized my cooking, made snide remarks about my weight during my pregnancy, and openly reminded everyone at family dinners that Ethan “could have married a senator’s daughter if he hadn't settled for a plain nobody.”
Now, the glass double doors of my executive suite flew open with a heavy bang.
Beatrice Caldwell burst into the office. She was wearing an outdated mink coat, her hair was disheveled, and her expensive face cream couldn't hide the frantic red patches on her neck. Two security guards were following closely behind her, looking apologetic.
“Chairwoman Vance, we tried to stop her at the elevator—” the lead guard began.
I held up a single hand, signaling them to relax. “It’s fine, Marcus. Leave us.”
The guards bowed and stepped out, closing the heavy soundproof doors behind them.
Beatrice stood in the center of my massive, marble-lined office, breathing heavily. She looked around the room—taking in the floor-to-ceiling panoramic views of the city skyline, the original oil paintings on the walls, and the gold-plated desk seal of the Vance Global Investment Trust.
She swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.
“Evelyn…” Beatrice gasped, her voice trembling as she clutched her genuine leather handbag to her chest. “Evelyn… my sweet girl…”
I leaned back in my leather chair, resting my hands over my belly. I didn't smile. I didn't offer her a seat.
“Sweet girl?” I repeated, my tone as cold as winter ice. “That’s funny, Beatrice. Last Thanksgiving, you called me a ‘useless, dull leech who was draining your son’s hard-earned salary.’ What changed?”
Beatrice’s face flushed dark red. She took three fast, frantic steps toward my desk, collapsing onto her knees right on the imported Persian rug—just as her son had done the night before.
“Evelyn, please! I was foolish! I was ignorant!” Beatrice sobbed, pressing her hands together in a desperate prayer. “I didn't know! Ethan told me you were just a simple girl with no family! He never told me you were Arthurine Vance’s daughter! If I had known, I would have treated you like royalty! I would have cooked for you, rubbed your feet, done anything!”
“I know you would have, Beatrice,” I said softly. “Because you don't respect people. You only respect money.”
“They arrested him, Evelyn!” Beatrice shrieked, tears ruining her heavy makeup. “They dragged my boy away in handcuffs! He’s sitting in a cold cement cell! He says they’re charging him with grand larceny! He could go to prison for twenty years! You have to stop this! You own the company—just tell the police it was a misunderstanding!”
I picked up a pen from my desk, casually spinning it between my fingers.
“Ethan stole $2.4 million from my mother’s trust, Beatrice,” I replied calmly. “He used my money to buy hotel rooms, sports cars, and diamond rings for another woman. He humiliated me publicly in front of three hundred people while I was carrying his child. Why on earth would I help him?”
“Because he is your husband!” Beatrice yelled, her desperate voice turning sharp with sudden anger. “Because you are carrying a Caldwell baby! Think of the family name! Think of the shame this will bring on us!”
“The Caldwell name is already trash, Beatrice,” I snapped, my voice dropping an octave, ringing with authority. “And as for my daughter? She will never carry the name Caldwell. Her legal name will be Vance. She will inherit an empire, and she will never spend a single second around people as toxic, greedy, and pathetic as you and your son.”
Beatrice gasped as if I had slapped her across the face. She scrambled up off her knees, her eyes burning with desperate malice.
“You evil, cold-hearted witch!” Beatrice screamed, pointing a shaky, withered finger at me. “You set him up! You let him make mistakes just so you could crush him! You played us all!”
“I didn't force Ethan to cheat on me, Beatrice,” I said, standing up slowly behind my desk. My presence completely dominated the room. “I didn't force him to sign fake invoices. I didn't force him to grab a microphone last night and humiliate his pregnant wife. Ethan destroyed himself. I simply stopped standing in his way.”
I hit a small silver button on my desk console.
The double doors opened instantly. Four heavy security guards walked into the room.
“Escort Mrs. Caldwell off the property,” I ordered, turning my back to her and looking out the window over the city. “And revoke her clearance to any property owned by Vance Global. If she sets foot on my land again, have her arrested for criminal trespassing.”
“You’ll burn in hell for this, Evelyn!” Beatrice screamed as the guards gripped her arms, dragging her backward out of the penthouse office. “You hear me?! You’ll pay for what you’re doing to my son!”
Her screams faded down the marble hallway until the heavy doors clicked shut, restoring total silence to the room.
Julian Sterling stepped out from his side office, holding a stack of legal documents.
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“The divorce papers are finalized, Chairwoman,” Julian said quietly. “We are requesting full physical and legal custody, zero visitation rights until Ethan completes a mandatory psychological evaluation and serves his criminal sentence, and a total freeze on all marital assets.”
“Sign them, Julian,” I said, placing my hand over my kick-propelled belly. “And tell the team to prepare for the board restructuring. It’s time to rebuild Caldwell Tech from the ground up.”
